


Survive Me

by Nanners (nanjcsy)



Series: Flat Eyed Monsters [3]
Category: The Collector Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Cages, Captives, Collars, Dehumanization, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Human Pet, M/M, Master/Slave, Mild Gore, Mind Games, Murder Hotel, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Predator/Prey, Prequel To Watch Listen And Learn, Revenge, Sexual Abuse, Survival Horror, Torture, Traps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2019-07-20 07:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16132727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanjcsy/pseuds/Nanners
Summary: After The Collector kidnaps Arkin, its hard to tell who is angrier. Arkin refuses to surrender and Collector refuses to allow Arkin to do anything but.We shall explore both Arkin and the Collector's POV.





	1. Fuck You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jayswing96](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayswing96/gifts).



> Prequel to Listen, Watch and Learn.

"FUCK YOU!"

"FUCK OFF!"

"GO FUCK YOURSELF!"

Fury, crimson streams of rage like curtains of rain drowned the killer as he drove the hour and a half to his Collection.

Oh how dare, HOW DARE this man? He will rip Arkin's tongue out, he will gouge out his eyes, remove all his appendages, make the man eat his own insides. Break, crush the thief's bones, how dare he talk to him that way, how dare he ruin his plans? How dare this insignificant criminal low life get the upper hand? He will pay and he will pay and no.

Breathe, calm, think, breathe, dissipate the anger, it causes mistakes, there can be no more mistakes with his projects, that is what could get him caught. Arkin almost got him caught and must pay, must scream, hurt and pay in bloody flesh coin.

Not kill, not crush and disembowel, there is so much worse that the Collector can do to him. He can force Arkin to LIVE. 

That little girl, she called the meddling foul mouthed thief that name. Arkin. A new wash of anger as he thought of the fun the girl might have provided. The whole reason he chose that home, so many playthings in there to choose from to keep. And the rest would have provided hours more of fun if it weren't for that damned Arkin.

WHO IS STILL CURSING HIM FROM THE BOX! HOW DARE THE MAN DO ANYTHING BUT PLEAD FOR MERCY AND HIS LIFE? 

The killer parked the van and began the process of putting his mask back on just in case Arkin was looking out one of the holes in the old trunk. Arkin was still yelling.

"FUCKING CREEP! GO ON, KILL ME! ASSHOLE, YOU HEARING ME? FUCK YOU, I WILL KILL YOU! I'M GOING TO FIND A WAY TO KILL YOU, BASTARD! FUCKING CUNT! LET ME OUT!"

Taking a very deep breath, the Collector dragged the box further into his playhouse. The former motel was a perfect place for this naughty mongrel.   

He wants to be loose? Arkin wants to try and kill HIM? Very well.

The Collector is happy, more than frigging happy to allow this joy kill his chance to fight him in HIS playhouse.

Game on.

 


	2. Fucked Fishie

Screaming, cursing, Arkin was momentarily lost to the blind thrashing panic. 

I CAN'T BREATHE, CAUGHT, TRAPPED, HELP, DYING, CAN'T BREATHE, SUFFOCATING, DYING, BLEEDING OUT, BREATHING OUT, DYING IN A FILTHY BLOODY BOX!

Twisting, trying to kick, punch, tear, claw and there was no room to do so, he was twisted, broken, compacted AND HE COULDN'T BREATHE!

A sudden voice crept into his head, cut through the mindless panic.

_"Fishie is screaming an awful lot for someone who can't breathe. What's wrong, fresh meat? Can't handle the time, you shouldn't do the crime, asshat."_

Arkin growled and panted at the memory of Officer Coffe's thick hateful drawl. A stint in prison had brought Arkin into the world of sadistic keepers, cages and at first, he had reacted like a panicked feral animal. Found himself breaking a few heads just to receive a beat down then get tossed by the guards into solitary.

They would leave him in the dark for endless hours, just to turn on the bright cold unforgiving light and blind him for many more. Tossing spit laden food at him, deliberately spilling his water into the grimy cracks of the floor, laughing at his rage and panic attacks.

That is what the officer used to mock him with. That damned drawl and it was back again, this time assisting rather than harming, in spite of it's cruel tone.

_"Well, looks like you got yourself into another pickle, boy. You thought my jail was bad, son? How are you liking your trunk?"_

Arkin dug the fingers that weren't sliced up into his arm, dug the fingernails deep. The pain was nothing compared to his other pains but that was thought for another time. The van was starting to move and he heard a terrible laugh in his head.

_"Fishie, you better start breathing before that man makes sure you truly stop doing so for good. Digging into your arm to dull your pain and sharpen your head is a good idea. What is one better? Come on, worthless criminal scum, show me you can do something. You wanted to play bad guy then you think you can suddenly change and do good things? You saved that little girl, true. But now what, fishie? That monster has COLLECTED you. But will he kill or keep you? Better start thinking on it, hero."_

He can't think of it or comprehend it, no, Arkin can't allow this to happen. He grimaced as he dug his fingernails harder and forced himself to concentrate. To breathe, be calm, think it through. Every turn, every time the van seemed to pause, Arkin used his nails to turn his arm into a small map.

Even if the worst happened and he was murdered, someone will find his body, someone will understand the map and catch this sick fuck.

It's the only plan he had, it was the only calm rational thing he could do to help himself. Arkin thought of that damned prison guard reading about Arkin taken by the Collector and laughing his drawling, hateful laugh over his morning coffee.

No. I will survive, fight and escape. I will. Fuck you, Officer Coffe and fuck the Collector. You didn't break me in prison, you fat fuck and I won't let some deviant serial killer break me now!

Van stopped and as Arkin started to curse and thrash again, the panic and rage growing in him, he heard that fucking voice in his head again.

_"You are one fucked fishie."_

Arkin tried to prepare himself for whatever was coming. The smell of death, of rotting flesh, of decaying organs hit his nostrils and vomit exploded from his mouth and nose. All over himself too but he found the scent of vomit was better than the other smells.

He found himself hugging tight to his knees, snuffling snot and chunks of regurgitated meatball sub, tacky with blood and aching, trying to keep back that damned panic. The man stopped dragging the box and then the world went silent.

No, not truly silent, he could hear moaning, distant sounds of suffering and Arkin fought tears.

Cursing until his voice went hoarse, Arkin heard the man give an actual fucking chuckle before walking away. Trapped. Trapped and alone. Death stink rising around him. Panic started to curl about his mind with gentle but strangling tendrils.

_"Aw, stop with the bullshit, Arkin. You can breathe and you know it. Face the facts. You are a fucked fishie now, boy."  
_


	3. Asking For It

He left Arkin to his vomiting and sobbing curses, too angry to deal with the prick yet. Instead the Collector took some time to shower, visit some of his other collected pieces. A lovely specimen that he has dedicated so much time to should ease his temper. Her original name was Pia but he liked to call her Daisy, at least to himself. Daisy has heard his voice a few times, it let the pet know it's favored. 

Entering the small room that belonged to his favorite girl, he was sorely disappointed. In spite of how well she had been taking to her transformation, it seemed a fever may have finally caught hold. Daisy wasn't crawling towards him with her usual shivering, whining self, she was curled in a ball, more seizing than shaking. With a growl of impatience and a tad bit of anger at a failed project, he carried her towards the small medical room he favored.

It was the same room he left Arkin's box in and dammit, why can't he get away from this man tonight? The girl was begging just above a whisper, begging for mercy, to serve and live. He would have maybe spoken a word or two, called her a good girl to comfort her but Arkin certainly didn't deserve to hear his voice. So he shushed the girl and laid her almost gently upon the surgical table as if to reassure her of her place in the collection. 

Glancing quickly at Arkin's box while he began to get the supplies needed, he noted Arkin's eye at one of the largest holes. He wondered if Arkin wondered why the girl didn't dare to run while his back was turned? Did Arkin fear him enough yet? No, he didn't but the Collector wouldn't take that out on the girl just to be an example for Arkin. Daisy tried so hard to please him, to behave no matter her agony. This was to be rewarded not destroyed. He will try and fix her fever.

If Daisy failed in her flesh and must be destroyed, he wouldn't cause her extra agony to do it. No, he rewarded the faithful ones and he would make it fast, painless. Arkin started to yell again and Daisy let out a small squeak at the daring of the voice. She has heard other victims be defiant before, but never to this insulting level. Even Daisy had enough brains to be properly terrified and she burst into tears just at the mere daring of such a thing.

A wash of affection for his creation came over him and the Collector smirked as he patted the girl's flushed and sweaty head. "Shush." His voice was soft, it was with a bit of approval and the girl gave a tear filled look of gratitude towards him and away. He ignored Arkin easier but he did do one thing before tending his Daisy. The Collector could feel Arkin's surprise when he pulled the trunk closer so that Arkin wouldn't miss a damned bit of the girl's treatment.

The Collector strapped the girl down only when needed, when the pain would get too much for her to stay still on her own. He carefully had to dissolve the surgical glue he has used to fuse the ceramic mask to her face. The flaying of it has healed nicely but it seems that the tip of her nose was too deeply nicked, bone marrow, a glimpse of it's yellowness. Putting antibiotic cream on the tender red mess made her scream, trying hard to not move away.

Arkin was silent through all of that except for some intakes of shuddering breaths. When the Collector began to dissolve the surgical glue on the flayed chest to remove the metal plating, Arkin started to vomit. Daisy had passed out by then from the searing pain.  As a mercy to a favored pet, he allowed it and didn't try to rouse her while he treated her. Just picking up the horror coming in waves from Arkin was enough for him. He took his time to fix up his girl and then he carried her tenderly back to her little room.

It was while he was carrying little Daisy back to her room that the Collector knew how to start with Arkin. First, he did want to heal the bitch. No fun to play with a sick specimen and he wanted to take Arkin down badly. But he wanted Arkin aware of it. He put Daisy in her room and he went to grab a few items, to check out a few little traps. Starting to feel more excitement than anger, remembering how horrified Arkin seemed inside his box, he headed back towards the trunk.

First he has to get Arkin out of the trunk, tend his wounds then start to play. The bitch deserved every misery that he had to offer, Arkin asks for it the way he dares to shout, to act. The Collector has determined that he was going to teach Arkin manners. And more. Slapping the cattle prod in his palm, the Collector whipped open the trunk. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of vomit and piss. Then he smirked as he ignited the cattle prod and struck.


	4. Not Me

Arkin saw and heard everything. It burned into his brain, it branded deep into his mind at each bit of madness chipping away at him. The girl, oh god, when the killer dragged that poor kid into the room...all Arkin could think of was that little girl he saved. Was this what would have become of her? Arkin recalled the look in the Collector's eyes as he reached for her, just before his prize was snatched away. That is when bile forced it's way past Arkin's lips, when the metal came off flayed flesh and he saw a glint of the girl's rib.

The girl's eyes had rolled, face contorted in agony but she had fully surrendered. Her eyes showed no shock, no fear, just full acceptance of the pain coming to her. She seemed to fear the madman's wrath more than the horrific things he's done to her. Arkin saw that little girl's face where the ghastly exposed girl's eyes rolled and her jaw bone moved as he watched the gloved hand stroke exposed muscle. Arkin vomited thin vile and clenched his fists as he forced himself to start to try and get that asshole to leave her alone, come for him instead.

The man ignored him and only after he left with the girl did Arkin hear another sound. A giggle that sounded tiny and mostly insane. It took some maneuvering in the box before Arkin could see out a smaller tear within the rotted fabric of the trunk. He peered out at another victim and wondered how he never noticed there was another person in the room this whole time. The young male victim with amazing emerald eyes and lovely long caramel colored curls upon his head had been just behind the trunk this whole time. 

"Want to bet? Will he take your tongue? Your balls? You aren't his type. No one dares to yell like that. You won't survive that way. I am almost there, almost in the Collection, I think." Arkin saw the sunken look, the terror and false hope as the naked but clean young man strained to keep perfect stillness. He had tiny chains attached to multiple steel rings, piercings. Arkin shuddered, remembering the hooks sinking into him in the basement.

The young man was covered in sweat, branding marks, cuts, bruises of various colors upon his lean muscular body and even like that, he was model gorgeous. His body twinkled in the harsh lights from surgical steel piercings. Slightly stretched nipples, eyebrows, each nostril, five hoops in each ear, deep in cartilage, a belly button piercing, one upon each of his testicles and the small steel links fed all the way through a large wheel, held tight to the ceiling. It kept the man on his tiptoes, arching upwards and he struggled to keep his arms out for balance.

"How long have you been here? Where are we? How do we get out? That girl, she has some freedom, right? How can we-" Arkin stopped at the boy's giggling. Rolling his eyes within the bags of sleepiness and grinning in spite of his clear pain, the boy spoke again. "No escape. All traps and only HE knows. If you try to run, you'll regret it. Shut up. Shut up! Don't ask anyone to help you and don't get me in trouble."

Arkin heard the sounds of the Collector returning and he sneered, speaking fast and soft in a hiss. "There is always a way out, you just have to find it." The boy muttered something but Arkin was too busy drowning in fear at the sound of those damned boots. The killer was back and the boy was still, silent and so was Arkin. He was startled when sudden light and air struck him as the lid was opened. Then there was pain and twitching.

His body rode lightening sparks as the trunk was upended and he found himself laying upon the surprisingly clean floor. Arkin put his arms over his face and curled to peek out at the man before him. The size of a god standing, hovering over him, still holding the cattle prod, a curved knife just waiting in the belt. And Arkin opened his fucking mouth. He could have said anything, please, mercy, I am sorry, don't hurt me, I will cooperate, he could have but he didn't.

"Not me. I won't be like them, like him or her. Fuck you."

Arkin expected rage or sarcastic chuckling but instead the Collector's black beetle shell eyes seemed to agree. The man gave a sort of tilt of his head and then a slight spreading of his arms as if to indicate he was waiting. Before Arkin could do more than sneer about the unfavorable odds, the killer tossed the cattle prod and knife aside with a clatter. He began to circle Arkin slowly, getting closer with his silent step.


	5. Frenzied Insect

Arkin was weakened, bloody, sweaty, too wounded, too long cramped in the box to actually fight. The Collector smirked, mocking the man with his every move as he got closer. He gestured around the room, tilting his head at the man as if to offer Arkin anything for use as a weapon. Then he pointed to the open door, waving Arkin towards the dark hallway as if inviting him to leave.

Arkin tried to crawl out of the killer's reach, a rather pathetically amusing sight and it made him chuckle. Like a panicking bug, limbs awkward and splayed the wrong way, Arkin tried to pull himself together. He managed to crawl for a moment, his eyes darting, judging the distance from a weapon, distance to the door. The Collector admired how the man still tried to search for a way out, a way to win. And he fucking despised it, wanted to crush it at the same time.

The man seemed to decide it wasn't worth trying for the door. Instead, Arkin lunged for a wall to use to steady himself, pull himself to his feet. He had barely moved his hands off the wall when the Collector struck. First he swept out a leg and took out Arkin's unsteady ones, making him clatter to the floor, whacking his head hard enough to make him groan. Patiently, he backed off and started to slowly pace around the stupid thief again.

Arkin tried to find his feet one more and the Collector slammed his boots into the man's sides, stomach and back until he writhed on the floor. It took one last try before Arkin understood and put out a hand while cowering down under a rising boot. "Okay! Got it, no fucking standing." The Collector still burned at the insolent tone but at least the stupid mongrel understood.

The Collector moved back a few paces. Leaning down, he beckoned to Arkin to come to him, as if he were a dog. As he expected, Arkin shook his head and invited him to fuck himself. He hoped that Arkin could see his delighted grin within the slit of the mask, he wanted Arkin to know he fucked up. Arkin seemed to understand but he didn't cower, just sat back on his knees. He was clearly terrified and in pain but still so damned defiant, silent, staring and shivering. Weaving, so weak and Arkin still refused to surrender. Good.

Did Arkin truly think that he couldn't tell that the man was tensing to leap? Whether for the door or just escape from his reach, it didn't matter much. What matters is that Arkin learns the very hardest ways to never run. That there is never an escape. There never has been and never will be, it's simple truth, an honest truth that he takes great pride in. The fact that Arkin came the closest to ever evading him, it is stuck in his head like a splinter lodged beneath his nail.

Arkin had to be kept, he had to be broken and mocked. He had to be the Collector's bitter example and memories of how he must always be careful, also how he will never fail. As soon as the Collector darted forward, Arkin threw himself sideways towards the dropped cattle prod. A boot stomped hard on Arkin's most injured hand, he ground the heel until he heard bones crack under Arkin's scream. Arkin's other hand scrabbled hard into the floor, two fingernails cracking under the pressure. "Sorry! I won't! Get off!"

In a smooth movement, the Collector moved off the crushed hand and kicked his cattle prod further out of reach, near the discarded knife. He didn't bother to pick them up, he concentrated solely on Arkin. The man was holding his swelling hand to his chest and struggling to push backwards on his knees away from the painful boots. Giving a soft humming sound, the Collector walked past Arkin to get something from a shelf. 

As soon as he turned and Arkin saw the length of chain and the collar in his hands, the mongrel lurched his way out the door into the dark hallway. Chuckling, the Collector attached the chain and collar to his utility belt. The smallest of whimpers brought his eyes to the latest specimen he has been readying for his collection. The boy looked both horrified and hopeful for Arkin. This made him stride over to the boy and stare him down, grabbing hard at the small chin, forcing eye contact until his victim let out a thin stream of pee.

He will make sure this boy sees Arkin's downfall too. A scream echoed along with some other howls and the Collector smirked as he released the boy's chin. Sounded like Arkin was figuring out where NOT to go. He was confident that Arkin was smart enough to keep himself alive at least for a short time on his own but not very long. The Collector took his time heading towards the commotion. Time to go watch the insect scuttle until it cornered itself.


	6. Maze Gaze

Arkin stayed very low as he fled through a hall that stunk like a slaughterhouse, lit only by yellow moth lights that allowed shadows to grow large and hungry.

"Fucked fishie, best be mindful of where you step here, this is HIS house and it seems about to eat you alive and squirming the whole way down."

The irritating drawl of the officer did have a point and Arkin heeded it. As he slid along the splintery floor boards towards a staircase and elevator, Arkin counted at least three different traps that he would have set off if he were standing or running. 

He slid closer towards the staircase and elevator, both right there, so tantalizingly close and innocent seeming. It sounded so easy to run to either one, go down and find the exit. As easy as it was going to be to enter that house and steal from that family. Except, the Collector got there first and made invisible traps everywhere. The officer finished the thinking for Arkin, buzzing in his ear and brain.

"And if the Collector was able to fuck that much with someone else's house in a short time, what has he done in here? Doesn't look like he just moved in either. This place has been rigged a thousand times over by a sociopath and you are a wriggling bit of meat ready for a thousand forms of getting caught. Though, you are already caught, aren't you? You are just a grimy rat in HIS maze."

Arkin groaned and muttered out loud, "Shut the fuck up, please just shut the fuck up so I can think, get out of here, okay?"

A snicker echoed in Arkin's head and he tried to shake it off. He didn't have time to go insane right now not if he wants to survive this. He can have a breakdown later, go bonkers and let Lisa just put him the fuck away in a nuthouse!

But. Not. Now.

There aren't just traps to watch out for.

Arkin discovered that quite fast when a panel slid out of the doorway to his left and a truly insane person came at him. He scuttled on his ass backwards just out of reach. The man had eyes blank of reasoning, they were just empty pools of shrieking mindless need, his nearly skeletal form encased in a rotting straitjacket. One arm was free and it was extended towards him, cracked nails nearly touching him as he backed away. The man was gnashing his teeth, foaming at the mouth and the only reason he wasn't attacking Arkin was the thick chain attached to the steel collar upon the thin flesh stretched neck.

Arkin crawled away fast and was slightly relieved to not be faced with a choice of an elevator or stairs. False hopes, they both had to be and Arkin knew it. It wasn't just the crazed man keeping him blocked from getting out. The elevator and stairs are surely rigged with something worse, something that would maim or possibly kill.

"So Fishie, I had to disturb you after whatever the living fuck that was, but don't you think that fucker is after you by now? Maybe find a weapon or a good place to hide if you can't find an exit. Because if the sight of the victims he keeps isn't a clue, the man is carrying a chain and collar that's meant for YOU, buddy. What do you think comes after he collars you?"

Arkin shuddered and headed for one of the small side halls he saw. He could FEEL the sociopath coming for him. He knew the man was toying with him, deliberately pretending to offer a fair chance but Arkin knew it was false hope. He had to rely on his own skills and mind to get out of here. He had to stay sane, clear and if need be, put up with an awful voice of his vile prison guard giving advice.

Arkin was afraid of doors, they could easily be rigged, some of the doorways were panels with similar frothing human dogs ready to launch. He could hear them eagerly scratching, banging and moaning behind their panels. Arkin had quickly figured out where not to step so he didn't accidentally land on the tiny metal dots that would slide the panels of their rooms open. Rather than open any door, Arkin just kept sneaking forth steadily.

"So...what the fuck are we doing now? You aren't listening to me, are you? Is this your plan? To just keep crawling through this place until you find a way to crawl out? Not a very good plan, fishie. You are gonna be hooked fast and he'll let you wriggle, bleed out for so long. Man has a temper and a grudge issue that you've triggered. And you are just gonna crawl until he reaches you?"  

"It's not what I'm doing, asshole. Just let me do what I want, shut up and you'll see." His ghost voice stayed silent and Arkin moved faster down the hall, turning with the slight curve. There was another hallway, it was lit with blue instead of yellow Arkin could see other floors from that glimpse at the staircase, that other areas had different colors. Different corridors and floors and Arkin decided that yellow was done. Blue looked safer and he crept into the hallway.

Arkin found small alcoves and small rooms all open, all bathed in blue lights, the air crisp with a deliberate chill and with a harsh scent of formaldehyde that burned the nostrils and throat. "Oh fucked fishie, look at all these things, all these rooms full of fucking nightmares for your head! I might even leave, too much competition after this shit scars your grey soft matter!" Each alcove or room it was the same. Blue swept over the glass jars, glass tubes, glass cages of victims, of their parts, of their staged death poses.

Arkin found himself shivering as he stared at a dead pregnant woman, her perfect seeming baby still attached to the umbilical cord that wound around the tiny neck. The look on the woman's frozen expression and the babe's own bloated face tells him. The Collector allowed the woman to give birth and he strangled it with the cord in front of the still suffering and helpless woman before killing her. Crawling forward, he tried to ignore some of the other specimens but one of them he could help but see.

It was in a long glass case in front of him, in front of the next turn in the hallway, it was impossible not to look up. He did and found it impossible not to pant in terror. This is a fucking madman and he had to get the fuck out of here. Instead of turning his back, Arkin crawled backwards into the next hall turn rather than let this..thing be at his exposed back. Didn't matter that it was humans that are long dead, nope, doesn't matter, even being in a cage didn't count. It was too horrific and Arkin watched it until he could see it no longer around the new area.

Arkin wanted to forget he ever saw the thing but Officer Coffe was all about it.

"I reckon it took at least ten sets of arms and ten sets of legs for that thing. I couldn't really tell how many spines he fused together for the body of that thing. What a fucking artist he is, right? Could you imagine trying to sell that online? Yeah, hello, I'd like to sell a rather unique art, are you interested? What is it? Well, my main showcase piece is a very long human spine body, scraped white bone spine, yes. A great deal of fleshy human arms on either side to represent this millipede nightmare. It is completed by a lovely skull that still screams or at least its really trying to. Any buyers for this, it comes with it's own case and vile fluid to keep the horror show going."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, let me think." Arkin hated how thin and shaky his voice has become as he crawled further, ignoring all the art now. Finding himself in a new hallway, pulsing red, peeling paint on walls and wooden doors. The officer's voice was flat now, no longer amused, just brutal awful honestly.

"You are scared out of your mind. You are a fucked fished this time for real and you don't know if you can get out. You might lose this one and the sheer thought of it breaks you, breaks something in you." Arkin whispered harshly, "I hate you. I fucking always have hated you so fuck off!" He sucked in his breath and held it, hearing a footstep, a deliberate sound made and Arkin thought about how he was being driven through a maze like a rat. Fuck. Fuck. He kept crawling and trying to figure out what door might be the least deadly to open.


	7. Hubris & Horror

The Collector has been doing no more than observing his sneaky rat running about his maze. He didn't have to try and conceal his footsteps, the man was naturally silent in his movements.

This was the Collector's carefully built fantasy world, he knew every creak and crack since he designed it that way. It was his home away from the ugly boring reality of mundane human life. This is where he became a deity, a king, a god, a monster and he was damned proud of it. This was a homemade built in horror show that can't be escaped, can't be accessed or left except by The Collector. He had no concerns that Arkin was going to find a way out, it would be simply impossible to imagine.

Running latex covered fingers over the cool thick chain links, he smirked as he caressed the thick collar that Arkin would be wearing by the end of the night. The Collector knew he could end Arkin's running in a second but he wasn't going to interfere in Arkin's growing anxiety. He wanted the man to understand there was no way out, he wanted Arkin to understand that it was over, the thief has lost.  The Collector wanted to feed, gloat and enjoy wringing every drop of horror from Arkin before he swooped the man into the chains he rightfully belonged in.

Arkin still didn't understand all this yet but he was determined to make sure it all slammed home into the stubborn thief's head hard, fast and often. He knew Arkin couldn't comprehend why the lovely girl that Collector created could be trusted to not be fettered or chained. Arkin couldn't even comprehend that the boy that was held by chains in that room, didn't dare to try and free himself or at least struggle a bit. It was hard not to laugh at Arkin's shocked expressions and reactions at the rabid humans dogs that would attack him but cower if their Master came by.

He walked on a small grate bridge above his prey so he could observe everything, relishing in Arkin's horror. The Collector usually fed off the emotions of his prey, of course but there was more to it. So much more and Arkin was giving him a damned MEAL. This alone was soothing his temper, the wasps in his dark brain matter, eating at him since he ran into the thief were finally calming themselves. His head wasn't offering the high pitched whine and the headache plaguing him all day seemed to be leaving at a faster rate.

It was as if the more Arkin tensed, the more the Collector relaxed. If Arkin frowned, he smirked, if Arkin screamed, the Collector held his breath as he rubbed the chains against his growing bulge. The Collector never qualified himself with a specific sexuality. It wasn't males or females, it was the scent of prey, it was the sweat, screams, tears and desperation, it was the amazing amount of emotion and pain that made the Collector want to sexually assault his prey. The Collector was certainly not above sexually abusing any of his victims, but he certainly wasn't interested in fucking all of them.

Only a select few truly rewarded that center of the monster's brain and it was with some great irritation that he discovered that Arkin was going to be one of his special ones. He felt conflicted. He HATED this thief, wanted him not as he usually wished for a collection piece. The Collector didn't wish to reward Arkin by giving him a special place in his collection, didn't want Arkin to think he was a favored pet. Then again, judging by Arkin's reactions to the blue rooms, perhaps becoming a permanent part of the collection might truly be a fate worse than death to the thief.

Relishing every upset he could wring from Arkin's increasingly panicking emotions, the Collector allowed Arkin to hear him coming closer. Arkin wouldn't be able to pinpoint where the man was, but he will hear that he was close, he was being stalked, hunted. He smirked and had to almost stifle a laugh as the rat scurried past the blue rooms and headed into a dingier green area before nearly falling into a pit with blunted spikes. Arkin cursed loudly as he skidded, his feet pressed hard against the steel pillars, pressing his back hard into the wall, trying to stop his fall downwards.

The Collector was grimly amused as well as annoyed at Arkin's continued desperate fight to survive. If Arkin fell to the bottom of the small pit, he might break a bone or two, he might sustain a puncture from a spike perhaps, but nothing that will kill him. It would however take the fight out of the thief enough that Arkin would be able to do nothing as the Collector hoisted him back up. Arkin managed to not only keep from falling in further, but somehow had the strength born of terror and determination to climb back up and onto the metal and wood mix on the floor.

A soft growl escaped from his outraged silence. Fine, so be it. Let the bastard continue to run amok until he tired out or lost out physically to another horror. The Collector had the rest of Arkin's life after all, to get his hands on him. Then Arkin did the unexpected and the Collector growled again. Instead of continuing to crawl along the hallways, Arkin decided to take a chance and launched himself over the side of one of the chain link bridges that unexpectedly pops up in the green hallway.

Arkin landed awkwardly onto a different floor that was stained over and over with blood and other worse fluids. With a grimace, Arkin started to limp on a clearly twisted ankle, daring to stand but keeping a very strict eye out for booby traps as he progressed down the hall. The Collector climbed down carefully so he wasn't more than a few shadowed feet from Arkin, he was sliding in the same wall that Arkin kept a hand running on, hoping to find traps before they found him. They were only separated by inches of rotting plaster and that alone excited the Collector.

Then the naughty, bad, terrible rat did a shocking thing that Collector hadn't considered. Arkin found another door and after giving it a quick examination, heard something and decided to kick the door open, throwing himself aside on the floor just in case. Sucking in an angry breath, the Collector watched as Arkin dared to violate one of the newer pets rooms. The asshole was stupid enough to dare to pick the lock on the rather large trunk in the room. The Collector was bristling with indignation as he watched Arkin release Molly from her trunk and her bindings. 

Molly was a recent catch from only a month ago. The girl hasn't learned to shut her mouth yet but she has learned to fear and obey for the most part. The timid young woman did whatever she must to appease her new master and has even shown gratitude to him for allowing her to join the Collection as a pet. Or at least the Collector had thought she was truly grateful and learning to be obedient until he saw how fast she was willing to throw her lot in with Arkin. They ran from the room, the girl giving a tearful report of everything she knew about this place which luckily wasn't much yet. 

The Collector was no longer amused. The dirty rat was stealing and turning his own pets against him? Perhaps he shouldn't have allowed the stupid rat to play freely in the maze after all.


	8. Babbling And Running

Molly's was a far better voice to hear than the officer in Arkin's head. Her voice was was high pitched, full of trauma and fear but coherent and helpful.

"HE will be so angry but I'm so hungry and hurt and scared and you SPOKE and no one dares to SPEAK to each other. No one helps each other, if someone gets free they run, they don't help, just run and get caught. You helped, you let me out, I can help you. I...I don't know how to get out but I know this whole floor, Master let me use it for exercise when I behave. Oh god, what am I doing? This is a test, He sent you and I'm going to be in trouble, it's too late to go back now."

Arkin was trying for patience when Molly said this for the fourth time and froze in terror. She would curl into a trembling ball and she'd pant apologies to the invisible deity of this twisted place. He would softly but urgently convince her this wasn't a test.

"Listen, he took me for revenge because I beat him, Molly. I get in and out out of traps and tough places for a living, I can get us out of here. Just lead me as much as you can. Let me know what to watch for, that's all you have to do. Please, help me, it's too late for you to go back anyway. Might as well keep going with me and we can get help for the others."

"No one ever beats HIM, no one ever wins against HIM. How did you do that? How did you get away from HIM once you got here? Aren't you scared of HIM? Don't you see what HE can do to you?"

Arkin concentrated on getting the girl to watch for traps. Molly held up hands with broken fingers, missing fingernails, wrists bruised and scarred from tight steel cuffs used too long, too many times. She would wave at the danger points and she shuffled nervously on feet not used to standing or walking much. The feet had broken toes and the nails were all painted brightly with orange nail polish. Molly's left ankle was swollen, causing her to limp, slowing them down enough for Arkin to silently worry. To distract himself, Arkin spoke to the girl as he helped her move forward.

"Fucking Collector let me out of the box and gave me a chance to go at him. Fucker wanted me to see that I was helpless before him. He wants revenge on me for getting one over on him. Bet he regrets letting me have the open door by now. I'm nowhere near where he left me and I think we've even lost him, at least for a moment."

Molly moaned and started to curl up, Arkin almost hit her. They had to move and he head the mocking laughter of the officer in his head. The sobbing girl started to pull at her ragged ponytails and her blood stained cheerleader outfit. When Arkin reached to try and pull her hands from their assault upon her, Molly skittered backwards from him, her voice getting louder, higher, more desperate in it's terrified doubt.

"No, no, I am so dumb. This is YOUR test and I got suckered in by you. HE will think I'm not loyal, not a good girl! Oh god, what did I do? I am so dumb, I am treated nice, HE keeps me WHOLE and I must be grateful for HIS mercy! I have to go back, I have to, Arkin! Come back with me and get mercy! There is no real way out, only HE knows how to leave here. Please, maybe that is part of your test and mine? Maybe I am supposed to help you get mercy?"

This was wasting time and giving the Collector not only a chance to reach them but he would hear Molly. Leaping forward fast, Arkin shook Molly harshly until her cries burst forth.

"Shut up! This isn't any test. I am escaping and you are helping me. He is a fucking crazy killer and he'll kill you sooner or later. There is no going back, it's too late for that, we have to keep moving! That man has no mercy, lady, get that through your head. We are so close, I know we are, you said there's only two floors down to the lobby. We can make it before he catches us. If we move right now and you focus on seeing the traps, on telling me the right way to go. Please, Molly, focus, it's the only way to survive him."

For a short time, Molly pulled herself together, long enough to crawl forth with Arkin to the end of the hallway. She shook her head at the old elevator and contemplated the metal door to a staircase.

"If we take the elevator, HE will control where we go, he's got us. HE has a remote control for it, I've seen him use it! The stairs are dangerous but we can survive them. HE has nails sticking out in a pattern that only HE knows how to avoid. But the nails can be seen, we can probably get past them but it will make us very slow. Even slower than we already are."


	9. Rabbits In A Rotted Garden

The rage thudded dully as the Arkin continued to be the biggest cock block of the Collector's life.

First he was denied the mature blond matron of the house due to Arkin's meddling. He was forced to murder the screaming bitch thanks to Arkin's interference. He hadn't been too angry over it, he hadn't planned to bring her or the husband for the Collection anyway. His eye had been on the the daughters. Either one would have been fine to bring home but even his day of studying the girls to decide which to destroy, which to bring home had been interrupted by that fucking Arkin!

The asshole kept the little girl inside and away from the windows playing tea party while he sprayed nearby to glimpse the small child. When he tried to inch closer towards the teenage girl, Arkin showed up to offer her a cigarette and obscure his view! He was going to offer the girl a smoke and a bottle of soda if Arkin had just stayed away. When the teenager came home and was caught, oh, how sweet she was. The Collector knew he needed to fuck her even if he didn't keep her or even bring her home.

He had been annoyed to find her pinned against the wall dead. There wasn't any way she could have released herself anymore than the wife could have released her gag. The Collector had assumed the little girl was not only excellent at hiding but was going around saving the others. That the girl somehow had the calm steel nerves to remove her mother's gag, the savvy to somehow release her sister's bonds of duct tape and barbed wire. It had been intriguing and amusing to think of.

The Collector had been surprised and yet not when he found Arkin lurking about destroying things. Taking the chance to snatch that little girl away just as he was thrilling to the thought of having her. She seemed worthy of his Collection having stayed out of his way for so long. He had searched for her after making sure the parents were secured, he searched hard but never found trace of her. It was impressive enough to earn a chance at his newest possession rather than his latest slaughter.

All that soft pink flesh never yet explored, inside and out. He wanted to find out how long she could stay silent. He wanted to put her in series of rooms full of places to hide and see how long she can evade him over and over. All the different ideas in his head as his hands reached for the girl full of terror and loud screeches now that she was caught and here came Arkin to steal her away. To ruin the Collector's next project! And continuing his damned irritating tradition, Arkin was running around with Molly after releasing her from her crate.

Arkin had Molly jabbering away and even when the girl would become too nervous, when she would try to recall that she was being naughty, Arkin would tempt her further on. Several times the Collector observed his pet curl up, declaring that she couldn't disobey anymore than she has already just to watch that mongrel force her up, persuading her to help him. It soothed him to know that Molly was at least aware and sorry for her behavior. He won't destroy her if he can help it, but she will be harshly punished for her betrayal.

Molly was directing Arkin towards the stairs and the Collector smiled with cruel joy. He moved fast to get downstairs on a hidden ladder greased and spiked that only he could climb without injury. As his feet touched the floor the other two above began down the stairs very carefully. Trying hard to stifle laughter, he walked over to a panel and flicked a switch that made the wooden raised stairs turn into a smooth wooden slide that sent both Molly and Arkin hurtling into the darkness of the first floor.

The Collector took his time moving forward, turning on dim flickering yellow lights that hung every few feet over them. He let each one flicker and pulse weakly as he turned each on and lightly swung them as he went by. Both his victims had plummeted down the stairs turned steep slide unable to stop until they hit the highly greased bottom, sending them smack into the wall. Stunned, moaning, the two tried to find their footing and shake off their dazed painful confusion.

This time he didn't hide and observe. No, the Collector was too irritated with Arkin. He was simply too jealous and possessive to allow Arkin loose around anymore of his treasures. The pretty boy upstairs had been impressed by Arkin's bravery, if Molly was wandering off with Arkin, the boy might or any of the others. No, it was too dangerous. Besides, how DARE Arkin keep getting away with stealing his thunder? The Collector walked towards the two as they stood up and started to wobble down the hall.

He walked under the lights he turned on, heading straight for them in as grim and domineering of a manner as he could. He silently made his message of upset clear and both reacted in ways that pleased him. Arkin cursed, paling, falling back onto his ass then scrambling backwards before gaining his footing again. Best was Molly's reaction, it did so much more to ease his rage at her betrayal. Molly saw her angry Master and burst into tears, instantly going to her knees.

She curled up on the ground, arms thrown protectively over her head and muffled pleas began. Arkin kept his eyes pinned on his advancing enemy as he tried to convince the girl to get up and run with him. Molly refused to move and as the Collector kept coming, Arkin let her go and moved back. Standing over his girl, the Collector stared down at her while she cowered and sobbed. Her voice finally stopped when he commanded her harshly to hush.

His foot made a quick tap sound and she cringed but peered out one eye from between her fingers. He pointed silently towards the elevator that would lead back to the second floor, back to her room. Molly inched, crawled to the elevator and the Collector pressed the second floor button, he will deal with her later. Molly can be as loud as she'd like then and speak as many words as she can while he punishes her for helping Arkin.

Arkin kept out of reach, backing up as the Collector made sure his girl went back to where she belonged. The man screeched, indignant and not understanding at all. "Molly, what are you doing? Stop! Don't go to him, look at what he's done to you and the others? He will kill you this time! MOLLY, DON'T JUST LAY THERE FOR HIM! STOP CRAWLING AND LISTEN TO ME! FUCK! DON'T YOU KILL HER BECAUSE OF ME YOU FUCKING LUNATIC! DO YOU HEAR ME?"

The Collector had snorted at that one. As if he would kill Molly while she was still interesting simply because of Arkin. What an ego this bastard had and he was going to enjoy destroying it. Once Molly was on the second floor, the Collector had no doubt she would go straight to her room. Probably would cower in the open crate until her master returned. Regretting her actions and trying to come up with ways to appease him so he won't pull her from his collection and murder her in a slow horrific way. This made him smile.

What made him finally laugh out loud briefly, unable to suppress it fully was the snap of a trap. The quick hard twang of metal teeth as Arkin stepped into a repurposed bear trap. Caught. The Collector felt such a sweet joy flow through him at Arkin's scream of pain, fear and frustration that he nearly swayed with dizzy pleasure. The fucker was caught in a trap he didn't see coming, like an overconfident rabbit in the wrong fucking garden. And the Collector wasn't a very merciful farmer.


	10. Shit Out Of Luck

No. Just no. His luck can't be that bad, his karma can't be this awful, things just can't go this way. Just pure disbelief that it was going to happen anyway, in spite of how much denial Arkin threw at it. 

 _FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK_ - **SNAP!**

The sound was deafening but fast, the pain was instant and landed on Arkin like a tsunami of agonizing crimson swirls. He screamed and bit it off quickly. No need to bring the Collector any faster than he's already going to be coming. Surely the man heard the snap and will be skipping his way over with something terrible. Bad enough that through the pain trying to eat him alive, the only thing Arkin hears is Officer Coffe's voice. Thick with bad coffee, unfiltered cigarettes and sarcastic amusement, the officer drawled in Arkin's head.

"Gawds, Arkin. I am actually starting too feel bad for you. I think you've lost your mojo, boy. I mean, that girl you saved, she ran from YOU, hero. She went BACK to the killer. That's shameful. So what do you do? Give her a yell as you pedal fucking backwards and then you run off, not even a good ole' college try at saving her again. You run off and put your fucking FOOT IN A BEAR TRAP! Did you forget to wear your lucky underwear today, Arkin?"

Arkin breathed, drooled, maybe a little vomit came out, thin bile with no real substance to it. He tried to rise past the pain, he concentrated on ignoring the officer instead. At the very last second upon seeing the dull gleam of metal in the dim lighting, he had tried to jump over the trap with minimal success. Arkin was able to save his foot, all but his toes and what a maddening fucking thing it was. Not to Officer Coffe, of course, that rat bastard was finding it hysterical, Arkin thought as he groaned, slumping full of a sick dizziness.

"Uh, Arkin, buddy? This really isn't the time for you to have any womanly vapors, ya know? I mean, this is the worst time for fainting but you are gonna anyways, aren't you? Oh my god...stupid fucking leprechaun...the worst luck leprechaun any poor kid could find in their Lucky Charms! If you faint, it's over and I'll laugh until your head explodes while that bugman skins you alive. Come on, what a poor fucking performance, Arkin! I expect better from a big baddie like you! Move your ass, leprecunt!"

His hand was shaky but the slap seemed to bring color back into sharp relief, right along with the pain. Gritting his teeth, Arkin grimly looked at the damage, trying to keep balance and consider his options.

"Really? Enlighten Uncle Coffe, pray tell what options do you think you have time to consider?"

Arkin growled.

"You aren't my fucking uncle, shut up."

But the voice was right, he had no real option and he could HEAR the Collector's steps now. The man was sauntering, he certainly heard the damned trap and knew he could take all the time he wanted. 

Arkin crouched a bit, sliding down the wall to get a better look. He has lost the smallest toe already and it was just gristle holding his other toes in the trap. Without any thought and a tremendous screech, Arkin lunged and the tearing his foot away brought the grey back. Falling flat, half fainting, blood spurting, Arkin crawled, knowing it was already too late. A heavy boot landed on his back and pressed hard, pinning him like a bug. 

"Unluckiest leprechaun just became a squashed, bleeding buggy. I almost feel bad for you, Arkin."

It was truly bad luck that caused Arkin to yell out loud at the voice in his head.

"Oh, go fuck yourself, motherfucking piece of trash!"


	11. Restraints

With Arkin there were so many firsts. The first to slip past traps, the first to rescue others, the first to truly challenge and evade him. Now, another first. All victims hear "hush" and those that are truly favored hear a rare whisper of praise in their ear.

No matter what the provocation, he doesn't speak, swear, not even a chuckle or shout of anger, that isn't how he works. There isn't even a temptation to change this behavior until Arkin and this very moment. Another slip and lay that also at this slippery thief's bloody feet!

The sight of the mangled foot, the blood and the panicked failed pitiful crawl, the slamming down of his boot on Arkin. As if squashing a repulsive bug, it should have felt cathartic but no. He should have been cheered at the pathetic state of the slippery clever man but he wasn't. Because how did Arkin dare to rip his own foot out of a trap, sacrificing his own toes to try and crawl, knowing it was useless?

It might have been due to shock or panic but Arkin's words, to DARE to speak that way, that confirmed it to the Collector. It confirmed that Arkin wasn't breaking, wasn't cracking and wouldn't surrender. How dare Arkin still be so rude and cocky, even in his dire circumstances? He did understand about speaking, about disrespect, he spoke with the boy and Molly, the Collector knows this.

Arkin SAW what happens to those that don't obey, that don't please him. Pressing hard to keep the weak man pinned in place, it was hard not to just start stomping him to death. Why put himself through this type of upset? Kill the insolent prick and be done with it. Don't bother with torture, just a long and messy death. Right now.

But only two hard stomps and he forced himself to stop, breath, watch Arkin squirm in agony, trying to breathe. The man coughed, struggled to breathe and incredibly, dared to look up and try to speak again.

"I...didn't...mean...you. Talking to..."

**"NO!"**

Arkin looked as shocked as the Collector felt as the foreign sound came booming out of his mask, out of his mouth. The thief froze and stayed silent as if understanding that this next few seconds might be his last. Staring down hard at the man, he took a deep breath, then another.

Willing the fury to abate, trying to stop the shaking muscles, every fiber of his body screaming red crimson streaming rage. No. No. There was no way that he can just kill this man and just move on. He simply can't allow these mistakes, these slips to stand, he can't tolerate the thought of anyone beating him. To just kill Arkin rather than take the time to break him first, it was lazy, it was nearly cowardice.

It was gratifying to finally see the flash of terror in Arkin's eyes when he leaned over the man. The boot grinding hard, whispering hush soothingly while watching Arkin grunt in pain. Waiting until the man was nearly blue before finally getting fully of him. Only to kick him in the head, knocking Arkin out cold.

The time it took to carry Arkin back up to the correct level gave him time to calm down. Enough that he was able to enjoy the crestfallen look shining in his hanging shiny boy's eyes at the sight of Arkin. He took care laying the man down on the steel examination table, not wanting him to wake up before fully restrained.

Wrists, forearms, chest, stomach, neck, forehead, thighs, calves and ankles were all firmly strapped with leather belts through metal loops on the table. Only after he was sure that Arkin could not move or escape did he stick smelling salts under the bloody swollen nose. The Collector wasn't tempted to speak any longer but he did offer the terrified and roused man a large smile.


	12. Screams And Smiles

"Well, let's see now. You've tried apologizing, bargaining and threatening. You've even managed to toss out some bad jokes and best of all, tried to encourage the pretty dangling boy to have hope. And what's it gotten you? Nothing. What's it gotten the boy or that girl you tried to help? Nothing. Good job, Arkin."

The maddening officer's voice in Arkin's head was deafening. It was the only real sound he had unless he counted the sounds of despair from outside his room. The boy hanging by hooks rarely made any sound, he could tell how irritated the Collector was, it worried him.

"Stop talking to me, it's pissing him off!" The boy hissed this at Arkin after the Collector had left the room and Arkin couldn't handle being strapped down like this. Couldn't dwell on that evil smile the Collector had given him, like a terrible gloating promise. Arkin can't accept that he's lost that hope is over, escape is over, the battle is lost, no, not acceptable. Won't happen.

When the boy refused to even look at Arkin anymore, Officer Coffe started to drawl and Arkin couldn't handle that either. Ignoring the taunting voice, Arkin began to talk out loud to himself, occasionally yelling at the voice in his head. Even though this made the boy look over at him with a raised brow and a tired laugh, it didn't bring the relief needed of another voice to offer hope.

 Arkin's voice was a mere croak when the latex nightmare entered the room again. Both men shuddered and groaned without forethought, shrinking in their bonds from the merciless eyes. In silent dreadful anticipation, they watched as the silent killer went to his shelves and trays. They could hear opening and shutting of cabinet doors, metal clinking sounds and other sounds they couldn't recognize.

All they could really see was the broad muscular back and arms moving under the black thick sweater.

Arkin watched as the Collector chose to focus upon his dangling victim first. It bothered him to see that face wracked in agony fill with frightened gratitude for the water bottle held before him. The young man eagerly leaned forward in spite of the distressed bleeding stretched flesh to sip daintily from the bottle.

He sobbed and thanked his tormentor in soft submissive tones that filled Arkin with anger and disgust. The Collector rewarded this behavior by gently hushing the young man and hand feeding him small bits of soft white bread. Another sip or two of the water bottle, then the black gloved hands danced over the hooks, checking flesh for infections perhaps. 

After a moment, the Collector patted the delicate features of the boy's face then went back to his counter and shelves. The boy sagged back into his own misery, eyes shut, breathing shallowly, but seeming a bit more solid after the nourishment. Arkin's stomach rumbled and his mouth felt like cotton but the Collector did not bring him food or water.

When the man came over to Arkin, he brought a steel tray on squeaking wheels that contained medical items. Arkin didn't bother trying to speak, the look in the Collector's eye seemed to warn him off. Arkin got chills just from the stance of the masked man. In spite of the gentle matter of fact attention he gave to the dangling boy, the Collector was still angry.

He seemed to grow angrier the closer to Arkin. He also seemed to get bigger as well. Arkin unwillingly whimpered and started to hyperventilate as those large leather clad hands danced over stainless steel equipment. Officer Coffe didn't desert his head though, no, gave him a last good cheering thought.

"Ah, shit, here we go. Time to pay for pissing off the piper, asshat. Do you think he'll rip out your tongue and make you into a bath salt puppy in his basement? Or maybe just slowly remove your eyes and then skull fuck you?"

When the Collector seemed to settle upon his first torture device, Arkin held his breath and shut his eyes. No point in watching, begging and crying before he's forced to, no reason to give both the enemy before him and the bully in his head extra enjoyment. But the sharp smell of rubbing alcohol caught in his nostrils, shocking him, making Arkin look up.

To see the large needle swooping up like a predator bird, then down like the bird sweeping low for its prey. Like a raptor bird sinks talons into plump live squealing supper, the needle dug into resisting flesh and Arkin gave a helpless cry. The Collector gave a small chuckle and even the pretty dangling boy gave a small condescending look.

"Oh. My. Gawds. Arkin, boy, I...I am just plain disappointing in you, son. Of all the things you've seen this deranged piece of fuck nuts do, this is what's gonna break you into a pussy? Huh? The man disinfects your wounds and stitches you up, you cry out like a fucking baby? If he gives you a band aid for a boo boo, will you crawl at his feet and lick his toes if only he'll be nicer to you? Pussy."

But even the officer wasn't able to stay strong when the Collector cauterized the messy holes where Arkin's toes used to be. Arkin screamed during the flames scorching his torn flesh. And the Collector smiled wide enough for Arkin to see his white gleaming teeth. The scream became hitched sobbing as the foot was covered in ointments and bandaged carefully.

The large man seemed to grow calmer and happier as he tormented and tended the injuries. When he felt there was no further treatment needed, he did not offer water, food nor even the simple caress he gave the other victim. Instead he inserted an I.V. into a strapped ankle, Arkin shivering from a cold that seemed to creep from the needle and tubing into his leg.

With the creepy smile in place, the Collector took a sharp blade that wasn't medical at all and began to cut off Arkin's remaining clothing. The blade moved slowly, Arkin's flesh shrinking from it but a few sharp flares of pain let him know cuts were made. Each cut was given mocking smiles and wicked eyes from the killer that Arkin didn't dare to challenge, not while strapped down.

When Arkin was naked, a mess of cuts, bruises and bandages, the man seemed satisfied. Arkin stared in horror at the catheter that the Collector held before him. "No, no, come on. Please. I'm house trained, I swear it! You don't need that, I can use a bed pan if you want! No, please, don't do that, man! Hey, FUCK THAT BURNS!"

Arkin lay there, panting and he muttered, "You are the worst fucking triage nurse ever. Truly. I mean that." He could FEEL the officer shaking his head and he could SEE the pretty boy shaking his head. The Collector didn't shake his head. He did way worse. Shocking Arkin by taking a rather gentle finger to wipe away the tears from cauterization and the rough catheter, the Collector gave an overly dramatic look of pity.

Just before he gave the bandaged foot a hard swat, the agonizing wave causing Arkin to wail and faint into a gray haze.


End file.
